Leadership and Compassion

The air shimmered with the weight of reality bending. Kara felt it ripple through her bones, the sensation eerily similar to being caught in a phantom zone portal—disorienting, unnatural.

A rattling feeling in the back of her head went off while the magic popped and fizzled in a way Kara had never felt before.

Mxyzptlk had promised her a do-over. A chance to fix things with Lena before everything could fall apart.

The moment Kara opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the same as their other attempts had been. She found herself on the highest floor of the L-Corp building- Lena’s office, in her classic Supergirl attire.

The city outside was darker than she remembered; the skyline swallowed by shadows. L-Corp was different too—colder, more sterile. Gone were the elegant but welcoming touches Lena had always insisted upon. The dark wood furniture and soft gold accents were replaced with steel and chrome, all sharp edges and muted tones.

And Lena—

Lena stood rigid at her desk, clad in black, but not the tailored dresses or sleek suits Kara was used to. Her coat was tactical. Stiff, high necked, and unlike anything Kara had ever seen Lena wear. She had clearly been caught off guard by the blonde standing in her office, and with military precision her hand hovered at the belt of weapons at her waist. Kara’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t the reality Mxy had promised her.

Kara tensed instinctively, muscles coiling for a fight with this clinically cold Lena, but something was off. She could hear her own heartbeat—too slow. Feel her limbs—too heavy.

She barely had a second to move before pain caught up to her and seared through her chest, a sharp, burning agony that stole her breath. Kryptonite.

Her body convulsed as she stumbled forward, her strength leeching away. The edges of her vision blurred, and the floor came rushing up to meet her.

“Well,” Not-Lena murmured, voice as smooth as glass. She had clearly gotten over her shock. “I have to admit—I wasn’t expecting this.” Lena practically sauntered around her desk, her boots clicking in a way that pulled Kara’s overwhelmed senses back into focus.

"Lena," she choked out, trying to push herself up despite the Kryptonite dulling her every movement. "I—I don’t—"

Lena stopped just in front of her, eyes sharp and assessing. She looked at Kara like a puzzle—one she intended to solve.

“Fascinating.”

Before Kara could react, Lena crouched and grabbed the front of her suit, lifting her effortlessly off the ground.

Kara gasped, her hands flying up to grasp at Lena’s wrists, but the Kryptonite’s effects dulled her strength. She could feel it weakening her grip, her body unable to resist the effortless display of power.

Lena’s eyes gleamed with something dark and unreadable. “A woman appears from thin air in my office,” she murmured, studying Kara’s face with vested interest. “Weak, disoriented, but alive—and she calls me by my first name.”

Kara swallowed. Being this close to Lena again has her mind reeling, it has been a long while. The familiar scent of her, the way she carried herself, the sharpness in her voice—it was all right and wrong at the same time.

She wanted to push her away. She wanted to pull her closer.

“Lena, let me go,” Kara forced out.

Lena’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead her fingers curled into the fabric as if debating whether to release or hold on tighter.

Finally, she let go. Kara stumbled as her boots hit the ground, her balance off-kilter from the Kryptonite’s effects. A dangerous sway to the left had cool hands reaching out to steady her.

It’s a firm grip, too strong for a human.

"Easy," Lena murmured, her voice devoid of warmth but filled with something else—curiosity.

Kara forced her eyes to remain open through the spike of pain. Lena was staring at her, her expression unreadable. There was no flicker of recognition in her gaze, no relief at seeing an old friend.

She doesn’t know Kara. Definitely doesn’t know Supergirl. Kara shivered.

"You dont belong here." Lena’s fingers tightened slightly where they held Kara upright, as if testing her weight.

Kara swallowed hard. Face to face she could see the difference between this Lena and her own, this one was even paler, her red lipstick was darker, and everything about her was more severe.

Something flickered across her face—something almost like amusement.

"Kryptonians don't typically break into my office. And they certainly don't make a habit of falling apart in my arms," Lena mused. Her grip didn’t loosen.

Kara gritted her teeth, forcing herself to breathe past the Kryptonite’s poison. This wasn’t her Lena. This Lena had never been her friend, and clearly didn’t have good intentions.

And yet…

Lena’s fingers flexed slightly where they pressed into Kara’s arms, as though she were committing the shape of her to memory. She tilted her head, studying Kara like she was something strange and new, something impossible.

Now, there was no outright malice in her gaze, no triumphant cruelty at seeing Kara weakened before her.

Only fascination. Kara’s stomach twisted again.

This version of Lena didn’t know her. She didn’t remember the years they had spent together, the laughter, the trust.

And yet, she wasn’t letting go.

"You need to let me go," Kara ground out, struggling weakly. She needed to find the source of the kryptonite.

Lena didn’t.

Her grip remained steady, and her gaze never wavered. "Why would I do that?"

Kara froze.

Lena wasn’t threatening her. There was no malice behind the words. If anything, she sounded genuinely… confused.

Kara’s retort came out breathy, she felt rather winded. “The kryptonite hurts, Len– Ms. Luthor. And, I need to get home.”

Kara’s Lena was a master of hiding her emotions, and this Lena put her to shame. Her face returned to its sterile neutral. The burn of kryptonite eased up the slightest amount.

“Home… to your Lena?” The way she said her name was cutting, anger flashed for a moment before she settled back to the sharp look that was apparently her neutral.

Her fingers loosened, just the barest amount. She should have let go already. But instead, she was still holding onto Kara like she was fragile.

Kara could see the gears turning behind her sharp green eyes, the slow unraveling of a thought she didn’t yet understand.

"Ms. Luthor," she tried again, and the wall of Kryptonite in the air slammed back into her in response, stealing her breath. "This isn’t where I’m supposed to be."

Lena brow furrowed. “Clearly.”

Kara nodded. "I need to find Mxyzptlk. He—he’s the reason I’m here."

Lena hummed softly, as though considering that. “I don’t think that sounds like a great idea,” the burn of the atmosphere intensified again, blurring Kara’s vision and making her knees buckle beneath her.

Lena’s catch was skillful, as if she had known Kara would collapse. “You are in no condition to be traveling, dear.”

Kara’s heart stopped.

Kara was defenseless, and something wasn’t right with this Lena. She was being kidnapped; the history of a Luthor, and Kryptonite, and a Super was repeating itself, and yet, she knew Lena wanted to kill her.

She wanted to keep her.

Kara couldn’t keep her head up any longer against the way her vision was tunneling, so it was weakly that she mumbled her last plea before being gone to the world.

“ Lena ,”

Lena's fingers traced the length of her arm absently, as if testing the warmth of Kara’s skin against her own cold skin.

"Interesting," Lena murmured.

Kara’s pulse pounded in her ears. She needed to get out of here.

Now.

–

Kara sat stiffly on the clearly never-before-used stark white couch in Lena’s office, her body still sluggish from the Kryptonite exposure. Lena had drawn the blinds shut, cutting off any rejuvenating energy the sun might have provided.

She should have been running . The moment she had woken up and the kryptonite source was shut off, she should have been searching for a way out, calling for Mxyzptlk, for anyone who could undo this nightmare.

But she wasn’t.

Because Lena hadn’t let her.

Kara had bolted upright when she woke up, frantically scanning the drab office for signs that she had fallen asleep in her own world in Lena’s office, and was really just waiting for her to arrive so she could plead for forgiveness again. The counterevidence presented itself when Kara had tried to stand.

It was the weight of Lena’s hand on her shoulder, holding her down—not painfully, but warningly from behind. An effortless display of inhuman speed and strength. A reminder of who was in control.

Now, Lena sat across from her, relaxed yet perfectly poised, watching Kara with an unreadable expression. It was nerve wracking. She was wearing the same clothing, so Kara must have been out for a few hours at most; although something about the shape of the tactical top seemed different.

"You’re staring," Kara muttered, forcing herself to hold Lena’s gaze despite the unease curling in her stomach.

Lena arched her brow. "You’re alive ."

The way she said it made Kara’s skin prickle.

"As opposed to…?"

Lena hummed, tapping her fingers against the glass surface of her desk. "No one has ever appeared in my office without permission, let alone collapsed at my feet, and survived," she said simply. "And yet, here you are."

Kara swallowed hard. "What do you do with the rest of the people who poof into existence in your office?"

Lena didn’t grace that with a response, instead tilting her head slightly, her eyes sharp.

There was something deeply unsettling about this Lena—about the quiet way she studied Kara, about the calm facade that she was certain hid ruthlessness.

The Lena Kara knew had always been controlled, always keeping a tight grip on her emotions. But there had been kindness beneath it, warmth that peeked through even when she didn’t want it to.

This Lena…

There was nothing soft about her.

And yet, Kara had seen the hesitation. The brief flicker of uncertainty when Kara told her the kryptonite hurt. Kara wondered if there were a lot of people in this universe Lena didn’t want to hurt. It didn’t seem likely.

Lena tapped a few keys on her laptop, and the table between them flickered to life, revealing a massive holographic map of National City. Red indicators blinked at various points—security checkpoints, restricted zones, patrol routes.

Kara’s stomach dropped. Lena really shouldn’t have this depth of information on the entire city. It really was as if the city was just an extension of L-Corp.

"You… run all of this?" Kara asked slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lena leaned back on the couch, crossing her legs. "Is that so hard to believe? Don’t tell me your Lena isn’t capable of a government takeover."

Kara clenched her fists at the dig at Lena from home. "Ms. Luthor, this isn’t—this shouldn’t be how things are."

Lena’s expression didn’t change. "And yet, it is."

Kara inhaled sharply. "This might be your National City, but I don’t belong here. I need to find a way back to my world where—"

"No."

The word cracked through the air like a whip, and before Kara could react, Lena was standing, leaning through the hologram between them.

Kara tensed as Lena closed the distance between them in an instant.

She wasn’t afraid—not exactly. But the intensity in Lena’s gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"You seem to think you have options," Lena said, her voice eerily calm, betraying that she felt the opposite.

Kara’s heart pounded. " Ms. Luthor— "

"You don’t," Lena interrupted.

A muscle in her jaw twitched, her fingers curling as if she were holding herself back from something.

"People do not tell me no," Lena continued, softer now, but no less dangerous. "Not anymore."

Kara held her ground, even as every instinct screamed at her to be careful. "I’m not—"

Lena’s jaw clenched and she slammed a hand down onto the edge of the holo-table she was leaning over.

The metal crunched under her fingers, bending as if it were made of paper. The look in her eyes told Kara exactly what she hadn't done.

She hadn’t crushed Kara’s wrist.

She hadn’t hurt her.

Kara thought the answer was pretty clear now about how many people Lena had in her life that she actively didn’t want to hurt. She was out of practice restraining herself.

Lena exhaled slowly, releasing the table with a sharp jerk of her fingers.

The ruined metal groaned as she stepped back. "You don’t understand how things work here," she said, her voice once again composed. "But you will."

Kara forced herself to breathe, to meet Lena’s gaze head-on. "Ms. Luthor I–” Lena interrupted her with an intensity that threw Kara off balance again. “No. Call me Lena,” there was a desperate edge to the command.

At this rate Kara is certain that she will get whiplash. Making fun of Kara for calling her Lena, but desperate to hear it, seeming annoyed by the familiarity Kara has in her eyes, but seeking out eye contact like she has been craving it.

“Lena,” She said it stiffly but it seemed to satisfy the crazy woman across from her. “I do want to understand. I need your help with that.” That at least caught her attention enough for New-Lena to let her speak uninterrupted.

The Luthor ego was consistent across universes at least.

“I come from a place where I know you, really, really well,” For some reason Kara could tell that this displeased Lena, so she moved on quickly. “I think it might help me get my bearings if you know a bit about me. I’m Kara.”

Lena watched her closely, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she stepped past Kara, moving toward the desk.

"I’ve prepared a room for you," Lena said, tapping something into a sleek tablet. "Everything you need is already there. You have security clearance to most of the tower."

Kara’s stomach turned. Lena hadn’t prepared a room. It was probably a cage.

"Ms. Luthor," Kara started, trying to keep her voice steady. "I can’t stay here."

"You can," Lena corrected.

Kara exhaled sharply. "Why?"

Lena stilled.

Kara barely caught the flicker of something in her eyes before it vanished—uncertainty, hesitation.

Lena had an answer for everything. She planned everything.

And yet, she didn’t have an answer for this.

Lena inhaled slowly, composing herself. When she spoke again, her voice was perfectly even.
"You should get some rest," she said, ignoring the question entirely.

Kara clenched her fists, resisting the urge to argue. This wasn’t her Lena. She needed to remember that.

But when Lena turned to leave, the words slipped out before she could stop them.

"Lena, please—"

Lena froze.

Kara registered her mistake after it was too late; the softness, the familiarity—she had let it slip into her voice like instinct, like muscle memory. Like she had said it a thousand times before.

But this Lena had never heard it, and judging by the way her shoulders stiffened, no one had ever said it to her like that. For a long, stretched-out moment, Lena didn’t move. Then, finally, she turned back around. Her expression had darkened, her green eyes sharp, burning with something unreadable.

Kara swallowed hard.

The moment felt too heavy, too charged, like the air itself had thickened. Slowly, Lena stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

She reached out, and Kara flinched at the gesture.

Lena stopped instantly.

Her expression didn’t change, but something in her gaze shifted. For the first time since Kara had arrived, Lena’s mask cracked. She didn’t look amused. Or calculating. Or even pleased.

She looked… wounded.

Looked disappointed in a way that viscerally reminded Kara of her own Lena. The one who, at this very moment, was probably furious with her back home.

And yet…

Kara was here, in another world, where Lena hadn’t been betrayed by her. Where Lena was strong, untouchable, and powerful enough to command an entire city.

And unlike her Lena, this one wanted her to stay for one reason or another.

Kara’s throat tightened.

She shouldn’t feel anything but fear.

And yet—

Kara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the guilt that twisted in her stomach.

She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to fix things with her Lena, the one who had once been her best friend, the one who—

Kara’s train of thought was interrupted by Lena’s rough exhale through her nose. "Get some rest." She retreated with a confidence most people couldn’t dream of.

The door slid firmly shut behind her, and Kara let out a shaky breath.

Her knees still felt weak.

She had to get out of here, but some small, selfish part of her didn’t want to.